Boy
by Chaotic Serenity
Summary: A Nuriko introspect. Spoilers for Nuriko's past, episode 32, and vaguely 33.


_Author's Notes:_ *kicks Nuriko* Get out of my head and leave me to my Seiryuu muses! I can't really explain this fic other than as a Nuriko introspect. *shrugs* Came to me while shoveling French fries at Burger King...-_-;; Don't ask. 

**Warnings:** None, really.

**Spoilers:** Nuriko's past, episode 32, and vaguely episode 33.

**Dictionary:** There is only a minimum of Japanese in this story.

-_sama_ = Ending added to a name or person that denotes great importance, prestige, or power. 

Obligatory Disclaimer: I own no part of Fushigi Yuugi or any of its characters.

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Boy

  
The snowflakes dance around me as I settle on the edge of the mountain, knee-deep in white fluff. It's cold, almost painfully frosty, but I ignore the dropping temperatures, my rosy cheeks, and the numbing feeling spreading throughout my hand. This is the first time I've done this in ten years, and I don't intend to stop just because of a little snow.   
I tilt my head back, inhaling the sharp scents of Hokkan's night, opening my eyes to the stars and filling them with the illumination of the pale, white moon. In Konan, our moon always has a soft canary tint, just like the yellow flowers that used to bloom near our home in the city, only a bit lighter. They were the only plants other than the green grass that was able to thrive in the hot and crowded streets of the capital, and Kourin and I used to pick them all the times and make necklaces at them.   
Kourin...   
No. I clamp my will down on the memories, pushing them aside. This is not the time to pity myself. Besides, those yellow flowers were things of the past, and the moon above me now glows bright white like a tiger's eye carefully keeping watch over his domain.   
This is Byakko's territory, after all.   
So do I really have any right to be sitting here and praying to Suzaku? Yes, says the idle thought, he is my god, my salvation. Byakko would understand.   
Spreading my knees a little more, I pull the fabric of my robes tightly over my body, trying not to let any ice slip into my boots or pants. There's very little else I can do to ameliorate the conditions around me, and my hands are frozen enough as is; the last thing I need is to not be able to get up afterwards.   
Facing the South, I clasp my hands together tightly, intertwining the shaking digits as I shut my eyes tightly. Clearing my mind, I force myself to relax, filling my senses with the cold, dry breeze of the winter night and gentle silence of the mountain peak.   
Slowly, I feel the rapid cadence of my heart decelerate to a steady pulse; the taunt muscles of my bodies smooth to gentle ripples of flesh; my sensitive skin eventually acclimates to the cold and finds a level of warmth with which I'm comfortable.   
And overhead, above it all, Byakko's white eye gazes down at me with a wildcat's curiosity.   
Suzaku...what do you want me to say? I haven't done this, prayed to you since...since...well, since you took my sister away.   
Since you struck down the two youngest Chou children on the side of a road in Konan.   
I died the day she fell, you know. It took time for me to complete my full transformation, but by the time I had made it that far, Ryuuen was already gone. Kourin was all that was left. Just a little girl with sad eyes and an even sadder smile.   
And I wanted it all. I wanted to kill the little boy with bright violent eyes. I wanted to resurrect Kourin. I wanted to hurt everyone and anyone around me that I could.   
Because I was hurting so much, and I wanted them to know my grief too. But that's not what I told everyone, now was it? I said it was all for her. Just for her. I had given up everything so she could keep on living.   
But through your priestess you showed me how much of a lie that was.   
Words fail me even now to express the rage and grief and betrayal I felt when the mirror Miaka revealed my secret to Hotohori and Tamahome. I saw their disgust, their grief, and the tiny flame of a little boy that was still Ryuuen recoiled in revulsion as well.   
What was I during those years? What am I now? A sexually confused young man? A grief-stricken individual? A repulsing cross-dresser with an identity crises? A butterfly on a summer wind trying to find his way home? Whatever I was, it wasn't me, wasn't who I truly was and now am. I'm still not sure what I am yet.   
But someday, I think would like to find out.   
When I'm ready.   
The wind blows strong now, pushing tendrils of violet hair into my cheeks, tickling me. I push them back, self-consciously running a hand through the strands. I pause as I feel the ragged edges at the base of my neck.   
I cut my hair today. I don't think anyone else understood how significant that was, how big a step it forced me to take.   
Kourin had always had the loveliest, longest hair. Even though I was a boy, I still loved to play with it, running my hands through the velvet strands, which were light and fluffy to the touch, and feeling them fall through my hands as I inhaled the scents of spring and flowers and divinity all at once. We used to put little combs in it, to my recollection, little jeweled combs shaped like butterflies.   
But my butterfly has lost its wings now, and my soul is filled with the strangest of paradoxes. I have lost a vital part of me that linked me to her, yet I have gained a little piece of the Ryuuen that had been lost. Was the trade worthwhile? Will I regret?   
Oh Suzaku-_sama_, will you ever find me worthy?   
I unclasp my hands and sigh, placing the cold limbs on my lap. Forgive me, my lord, but my mind is too restless tonight to praise you. A faint smile crosses my face at that. But I do have plenty of questions for you, don't I?   
No answers, though. It seems you want me to find those on my own. Gazing up at Hokkan's moon, I wonder idly if Byakko ever demanded the same from his own warriors.   
After all, tigers are just as fierce as mythological birds.   
What lies ahead on the journey of life for me? What destiny are you weaving for me this very moment as you trace your hands across the Fate's loom? Mother and Father used to trace such pretty patterns on theirs cloths: Would you be willing to bestow such a gift upon me?   
I listen for a moment, hearing the thick silence pervade my soul, watch the snow as it falls around me, hoping to catch a whisper of your voice in these cold and lonely hours as you spin me my cloth.   
But there is something. And I suppose it's only fair.   
Sighing again, I get to my feet. I wobble at first, my legs pricking with sensations of cold and disuse, but I find my footing and stand strong, a lone young man against the wind, outlined by the intensity of Hokkan's moon.   
I pause now, contemplating. Is that what you want from me, Suzaku? To stand again as the little boy who tied flowers in his sister's hair and looked on as Father wove pretty patterns with the richly died fibers?   
Am I ready, Suzaku? And would you find me worthy?   
I close my eyes one last time, inhaling the scents of night and cold. What would you want me to do?   
The breeze picks up now, whispering in the eaves, echoing in the hollows of mountains, and swallowing my soul.   
_Believe..._   
My ears prick at the sound of a voice above the others, soft and gentle and paternal all the same. Suzaku-_sama_, is that you?   
The wind suddenly blows much stronger against me, and the long, eerie sound of a wolf's howl echoes in my ears, shattering the still of the night. I close my eyes as the snow viciously attacks my eyes.   
Perhaps even Byakko is tired of my inquiries. You immortals apparently don't take well to being questioned.   
Even with that in mind, I cannot shake the pervading feeling of an ill tomorrow, and I shudder in the cold. Forgive me, Suzaku, but I am only a man.   
What Fate do you have in store for me, mighty Phoenix and Lord of the Skies? And you, Byakko, why is it your bright eyes now seem darker?   
Turning my back to the stars, I begin making my way back to my fellow warriors, my stars brothers.   
My salvation.   
But you would have none of this dissolution. The winds batter me down, and even in all my strength, I fall, finding myself on my back, gazing at the seven stars of Byakko. They sparkle, and your voice returns to me.   
_They followed their destinies, now it's time to follow yours. Love. Cherish. Believe in yourself..._   
But am I ready?   
_You were always ready._   
From the corner of my vision, I catch a glimmer of red, and tilting my head to the side, I see the seven stars of Suzaku burning brightly in the South, strong and proud and ready for whatever destiny may come.   
I smile.   
Sitting up in the snow, I take my place again on my knees, settling into the pulling my robes together once more. I place my hands together.   
There are some things that even time cannot destroy.   
I pray for strength, Suzaku-_sama_. Give me the power and courage I need to face this Fate you have in store for me. Let me face this howling wolf with my heart and mind filled with the essence and love of my priestess, and if you choose to end our time together, I pray that you help them go on without me.   
Help me believe, Suzaku.   
I lift my head now, eyes shining in the light of the moon. Byakko's eye bears down on me harshly for a moment before twisting into a smile and winking.   
And moving his lips in a silent prayer, the little boy smiles back.   


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**Final Notes From the Author:**   
  
I'm proud of this story. I really am. This is one of the few stories where I think I really managed to capture the essence of the character in this small a selection.   
It's hard to pinpoint exactly what Nuriko was thinking after he cut that braid. It was a big step for him, shedding such a feminine part of himself, opening himself to the world and its scorn. I couldn't help but write at least one story focusing on it.   
Ahem...just a few things to clear up. Yes, the wolf reference is an attempt at foreshadowing, but it's not supposed to be saying that Suzaku showed Nuriko his fate. Rather, I think of it more like the symbolism displayed by a wolf as an adversary in survival. Secondly, Suzaku is not actually "talking" to Nuriko. It's not as if Tamahome or one of the other could have simply walked down here and heart Nuriko having a heart to heart with the southern god. It's more like...well, something one suddenly realizes in his heart with the help of divine intervention, neh? Understand now?   
Anyhow, thank you for reading. I really enjoyed writing this story, and I hope you liked reading it just as much.   
  
-Chaotic Serenity 


End file.
